One time a minister bought a parrot, and it wasn’t until that he had brought the parrot home that he discovered a key difficulty with his purchase. The parrot was almost a non-stop cusser. His previous owner had apparently taught the parrot every bad word found in the English language, and it was to these words that the parrot inevitably gravitated. The minister was entirely nonplussed. Nothing he tried worked.
One day, the parrot was expressing himself freely, and the man of God was just staring at him. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and the minster sprang up startled. The parrot, he knew from past experience, could not be shut up, and the party at the door was his appointment with the Ladies Aid Committee, one he just now remembered. The minister grabbed the parrot and darted around the room aimlessly, needing to figure out what to do in a matter in seconds — then inspiration struck. He dashed into the kitchen, which was right off the living room, opened the top freezer, and threw the parrot in.
He then went to the door, escorted the ladies in, and they had a most profitable meeting, lasting, in all, about half an hour.
When the meeting was over, and the ladies had left, the minister went to the freezer to let the parrot out. To his astonishment, the parrot hopped humbly onto his finger, and was entirely silent. He was a wiser, better parrot. He was completely quiet . . . for about three days, he didn’t say anything. The minister was mystified.
After three days, the parrot finally spoke. “So . . . what did the chicken do?”